


Broken Mirrors

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood, Depression, Gen, Gore, Hallucinations, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canada hears a voice, he always has. No one ever noticed, they never did for anything. It whispers to him, it wants to play a game. It holds him tightly... because no one else will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This won't be like all the other snapped Canada fics people write. It won't be senseless murder and suicide. This has a rhyme and a reason. It also has a plot. I've posted this also on fanfic. Net under the same user name. How you enjoy, I have about seven chapters already typed out so far.

"No nonononononnnonoNoONONonnoNONONONO!"

Matthew's fist slammed against the wall beside him and he struggled to breathe. His legs were shaking as he shook his head trying to rid it from the voice. It had always been there; trying to tempt him in the shadows, trying to make him stop caring. He was stubborn though, a trait that both he and his brother America shared. But the voice didn't want him to think about that. He was an evil man, a terrible person. He doesn't deserve to-' NO! Stop talking like that! I love Alfred! H-he's my best friend and a part of my family!' Canada told himself sternly.

Lately, it seemed, the voice had been getting stronger. Every time a nation looked right through him or forgot his name it would materialise beside him and drape its long, dark, wandering arms around his shoulders. It would whisper seductively into his ears, reassuring him that it was okay. The pain could be numbed by it soft caresses. It was only now that Matthew realized that he had unconsciously become so dependant on the voice. When did that happen? He would follow what it told him to do (sometimes willingly sometimes not so much), and then only remember what he had done later. He knew it was wrong to not tell anybody, but was there really anyone who would listen, let alone hear him?

Early that morning he had awoken to hear the voice was wailing inside his head. It wanted him to do this-no- needed him to do this. It was too much though. He couldn't do what it wanted. He would fight it and hold on for as long as he could, but Canada knew, whatever his voice wanted, his voice always got. So as he was on his way to the meeting room, he had felt his world crash down around him. Red flashed before his eyes and he pleaded with his mind to just let him slip into unconsciousness, it didn't respond. Inside his head he felt the voice screeching for what it needed. Blood. Matthew was shaking all over and tears fell to the ground and smudged his glasses.

He held his head in his hands as shivers ran through his spine. He could feel the voice's arms around him and the sweet words dripping into his ears. What he never realized was that the voice was his own.

\------------------------------------------

"Fuck!" The Brit exclaimed as he slammed the door of his car. He was late for the world meeting, very late indeed.

His brow creased and a groan escaped his lips as he imagined the scathing look that Germany would give him and the taunts from America. Oh dear God which one was worse? He ran a hand through his ever messy hair and began to run. He asked one of the humans working in the main foyer how to get to the meeting room and barely had time to thank him before racing off again. If it hadn't been for the unearthly shriek, England would have ran right past the huddled figure on the ground. 'Strange place to be crying.' he thought. Then he stopped for a closer look.

England approached the young man with care, but when he realized who exactly he was dealing with, and he became immensely ticked off. "Bloody Hell America, don't scare me like that! Why on Earth did you think this would be a good prank? And why aren't you in the meeting already and..."

England trailed off as he noticed the shivers that racked through the young man's body. He frowned, either America's acting had improved by leaps and bounds or this wasn't the irritating prank he first believed it to be. Then Alfred started whispering things. They were quiet and Arthur could barely catch what he was saying. All the same though, it was enough to give him shivers of his own.

"Come on now… It'll be fun! You know you always enjoy my games in the end- NO! Stop it, this isn't funny. I never liked your games, you're just saying that." At the start his voice seemed silky and sweet like honey, but the second voice was hoarse and quiet. It seemed almost like there were two different people speaking.

"They don't remember you anyways so why not? Now they can feel the same when nobody notices if they die! - SHUTUP. NOnOnONOnonoNONo."

England was legitimately concerned now. He gently rested his hand on his son's '-no not a son anymore don't think like that' he scolded himself, his allies shoulder. Bad move on his part. The boy shot up and pressed his back into the wall like a cornered animal. His face was flushed and his eyes were wide with fear but… this wasn't America. Well, it looked like him but something told England he wasn't. The teary violet eyes were a dead giveaway. What was his name? Ca….. Jesus why couldn't he remember? Arthur tried to calm the boy from his hysteria, "C'mon now lad. I'm here, tell me what happened. Hello?" It was like the young man couldn't hear him, or he was seeing a whole other person.

"Don't touch me! Why are you always touching me? I don't want your slimy arms draping over me all the time- Canada, calm down dearie- NO shut up! You want me to kill them! I hate it when you do this!"

Canada? It didn't ring any bells in his head. Was the boy a nation? His blonde wavy hair reminded him of old frog face, maybe France knew him. Just then England was snapped out of his thoughts by a pair of hands closing around his throat. He yelped in surprise as he was pushed to the floor and struggled underneath his attacker. The teary eyed man that had been sitting in front of him seconds before had been replaced by a manic smile, and a shrill laugh. "Well it looks like I'll just have to show you how fun it can be!" He sang out in a sing-song voice.

Arthur attempted to push him off but couldn't move as he was straddled by the adolescent nation. Black spots began to dance before his eyes and England almost resigned himself to his fate when suddenly his attacker fell limply on top of him. Breathing heavily England's hands flew to his throat and he began coughing and gasping. His eyes watered and upon glancing up at the new figure that had appeared before him. He felt one of his eyebrows twitch slightly upon seeing America. Alfred didn't seem to notice him yet as he was transfixed on the piece of wood in his hands. It must have been ripped from a door frame, God knows Alfred was strong enough to do that. That wasn't the issue though.

It was the blood on the top of the wood that was bothersome. Arthur realized that the America must have hit his mysterious attacker over the head and knocked him unconscious. America looked England in the eye steadily and the Englishman was shocked to see anger directed at him. Why was Alfred angry at him of all people? He was the bloody victim here. "W-who is this Alfred? Do you know this man he must be a nation of course but…" He trailed off with one silencing look from the furious looking American. His "friend" spoke with an icy calm to his voice, "That's my fucking brother you bitch. What the Hell did you do to him?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This one's for the lonely, the ones that seek and find  
> Only to be let down time after time  
> This one's for the torn down, the experts at the fall  
> Come on friends get up now you're not alone at all"  
> -Greg laswell, comes and goes

America had shot up at the sound of the scream. Looking around the meeting room he had all of his senses on red alert. His hand had snaked down to the gun hidden in the pocket of his leather bomber jacket. Soon, however, he began to realise that no one else had seemed to have heard the cry. America shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, he must be working too hard again.

He sat in his seat fiddling with his pen and bluntly ignoring France who was yammering away about yet another strike in his country. A sneaky thought crept into his mind and a small grin snaked across his face. Now seemed like a great time to bug someone, and of course that someone was going to be… America turned to his right and was sorely disappointed to see that ol' Iggy eyebrows was missing. That made him frown a little. England wasn't known for being perfectly punctual at time but he would never miss a meeting. Turning to his left he started to ask if Canada knew where England was. Matt usually knew what was up with England since he had decided to stay in some commonwealth something or other. Another empty chair greeted him. His brother wasn't there either. Huh.

Just as Alfred was preparing to damn himself to eternal boredom he heard it again. There was no mistake someone had just cried out for help, and if wasn't going to do something about it then what kind of a hero was he? America pushed back his seat and began walking quickly to the large doors, he was sure that the cry had come from the hallway. He heard Italy behind him, "Ve~ Hey America where are you going?" He didn't slow down to answer.

"America-san?" He ploughed forward ignoring Japan. It was Germany that stopped him. America might be dense at times but he wasn't stupid enough to ignore a direct question from the large German man.

"Where are you going America? The meeting has not ended yet."

Alfred grit his teeth and spat, "Are you telling me you couldn't hear that scream?"

China cocked his head to the side, "What scream? I never heard anything-aru."

Germany looked back at him with the same blank look in his eyes, "China is right America, there was no sound."

This was stupid how could they just pretend nothing had just happened? America had heard the noise clear as day! Obviously someone was in trouble and he wasn't going to just stand there and let these fools keep him from being the hero.

"Tsk, whatever idjits! I'm gonna be the hero while the rest of you just sit here denying that someone needs help!" And with that America spun around on his heel and marched forward pulling open the large doors and flashing a quick peace sign with his fingers before charging off down the hallway.

Germany just shook his head with a weary sigh, "Mein Gott… That child was raised in a barn, I swear…"

'Oh shit' was the first thing that went through his head when he saw the scene before him. America skidded around the corner of the long hallway to the meeting room just in time to see England being bowled over by a taller blonde man. Arthur shouted in surprise but was silenced as two thin, shaking hands were curled tightly around the brit's throat.

Now, Arthur wasn't exactly the damsel in distress that Alfred had counted on saving, but he was obviously in trouble. America frantically looked around for the first thing he could grab to fend off his fellow nation's attacker, seeing as there were no vases or decorations in the drab hall, his eyes quickly latched onto the top of the door frame near him. Quickly promising himself that he'd pay for the property damage later, America easily ripped the piece of wood from where it had been stuck. Without thinking Alfred swung the wood like it was a baseball bat and with one well-placed blow, his enemy was down…except it wasn't his enemy. The pale man lying on the floor in an unconscious state was his brother. Why had Canada been trying to strangle England? His eyes flickered down to the large eye browed man coughing up a lung (figuratively speaking) and he narrowed his eyes. What had England done to get his brother upset like this? Canada never got angry for no reason, and it had to be a good reason at that.

England looked up at him, rubbing his neck, and his eyes widened slightly as he saw the anger in his rescuers blue eyes. He spoke hoarsely, flicking his eyes towards Canada who lay in a heap and now had blood staining his blonde hair, "W-who is this Alfred? Do you know this man he must be a nation of course but…"

That was what made Alfred see red. How could England not recognise his own son? He didn't even know who he was?! That bastard! America felt something like approval fill the pit of his stomach as he thought that maybe Canada had finally decided to take matters into his own hands and make Arthur remember who he was, but strangling someone was a bit drastic… Still. America couldn't excuse this, he had already hurt his own brother now this was adding insult to injury.

"That's my fucking brother you bitch. What the Hell did you do to him?"

Canada stood on a cliff. It was very tall cliff that over looked the ocean, just below the water was a collection of jagged rocks that could easily impale you if you were to jump in. He wasn't sure how he knew but he just did.

Judging by the scenery Canada guessed he was in Newfoundland. He didn't remember how he had actually gotten there but that seemed to be happening a lot recently. He'd wake up not necessarily in a bed but sometimes in one of the more interesting and secluded places of his provinces or territories, far from his home in Ottawa, Ontario.

Why Newfoundland though? I mean this was one his more interesting regions, the people always knew how to have a good time and a lot of his favourite comedians came from the east coast, but again; why Newfoundland? Sighing tiredly Canada sat down on the edge of the cliff suddenly finding his thoughts sluggish. He also became aware that when he had sat down he wasn't in Newfoundland anymore. He was standing behind a large glass window and through it he saw his family. England was yelling at America, who was laughing, while trying to push France's arms away from where the Frenchman had embraced him. Matthew began to giggle at the typical scene, but stopped as he saw himself approach the glass. Why was he on that side too?

The other him began to write on the windows with his fingers, even though there appeared to be nothing on them. Then Canada gasped slightly. For when his double's fingers touched the glass red blood began to appear. Canada wasn't sure if it was fascinating or terrifying, but all the same, his eyes were glued to the letters that had begun to form. W…A…T…C…H…:)

Watch? Watch what? Matthew didn't know what was about to happen but a sharp headache had begun to throb against his temples and the smiling face's eyes were starting to drip like tears not making it look all that happy and instead, extremely macabre. He gulped, this might not be a happy ending.

His double flashed a dark grin to Matthew. Canada put a hand to the glass, a dark feeling beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. He knew what was about to happen, he just wished that he didn't. The other him sauntered over to his family and started speaking. Canada couldn't hear what he was saying but what he did know was that his other self was being ignored. America kept on laughing that annoying laugh of his…over…and over…and over… why? Why WhY WHY? The pain in his head had increased tenfold and he winced every now and then when a sharp stab of pain would run through his skull. His double had stopped talking now and slowly began to pull out a knife. "No!" Canada whispered, placing his hand on the glass, eyes wide. His double walked up to England and slit the nation's neck, the older country didn't seem to notice that his blood was now pouring down his chest, seeping into the fabric of his clothes staining it almost black with the heavy liquid that just kept pumping. England was still sternly lecturing America and swatting away France with one of his hands.

His double then approached France and stuck the already bloody knife into the man's chest where it stayed. Matthew's breathing had become laboured and his heart raced in his chest. The pain in his head was blinding but he was still being forced by some invisible entity to witness this bloody massacre.

England's body had finally dropped lifelessly to the ground where he lay still. It was hard to tell what he really looked like though, due to the tall grass that swayed in some non-existent breeze. France too had collapsed to the ground, but somewhere deep inside, Matthew knew he was still smiling that award winning grin that could make any woman or man swoon. Canada almost retched at the thought of England and France's beautiful, vibrant eyes, now glassy and dull.

All that was left now was America. Still laughing. Always smiling, always laughing. Canada fell to his knees and stared through the glass, pressing his hands and face up against it, bracing himself in anticipation for the final blow to his heart. His head ache had receded to a dull throb in the back of his mind and all he could think about was his brother dying. The final blow never came. Instead his double smeared some of the blood that was on his clothes across his brother's face and hands. The giggling nation didn't even feel Matthew's clone's touch. His double began to walk back towards the glass and looking Canada dead in the eye he knelt down to be on level with himself. He began to write again. I…T….WAS…N'T….YO…U.

"Of course it wasn't me, it was you!" Canada replied his voice cracking and barely a whisper.

His other self nodded, it seemed his clone could hear him. B…U….T….I'M….Y…OU…

Now this Canada couldn't deny. They were the exact same person the writing continued.

LO…O…K….AG….A….I…N…I…DIDN'T….KIL…L…THE…M…

Canada did look again. He saw America laughing, still, surrounded by two bodies and covered in blood. It struck Canada that if anyone else were to come along and see this mess they would automatically call his brother out on the crime and ship him off to some mental hospital. Canada couldn't quite understand it but he was nodding along, "Yes, I didn't kill them. It was Alfred…America killed my family." He looked up expectantly and to his surprise saw his double's hand reaching for the glass, but it didn't stop there. Much to Canada's horror, the hand made it through the glass and eventually he and his copy were face to face and Canada heard another voice echo in his mind.

"It's not you, it was never you so don't blame yourself. They were real people and now they're dead. Simple as that. America killed your family so you have nothing left to live for it won't matter what you do next…right?"

Matthew nodded his head thoughtlessly. Damn! Why was he agreeing with this thing?He had everything to live for!

"Good, now wanna play a game?" His double cocked his head expectantly, giving him puppy dog eyes. It didn't work too well since there was blood droplets spattered all over his glasses and face.

"It'll be fun okay? I'll make you have a dream and it'll seem just like real life, sounds good eh? You can go and kill whoever I tell you to! We will have so much fun you and I! Just remember that place is going to be fake and this is real. Everyone else is dead. You can tell the people in the game about this. Cool?

Matthew wasn't cool with this. Not in the slightest. His palms were all sweaty and his throat was dry, yet he managed to talk. "W-when you say 'everyone else is dead'…D-do you mean-"

"Yup~! Every single nation but us and America! Isn't that neat? China was killed by Japan and Belarus murdered Prussia for killing Russia and so on!"

Canada felt a strange smile tug at his lips. He was the last one left? How fitting it seemed. He was so easily overlooked that they had even forgotten to kill him! He could do with letting off a little steam… "O-okay. I'll play."

Why did he say that? He didn't want to play! So why did he feel like this was okay? Canada's clone jumped with glee and embraced him. "That's so great!" Matthew hesitantly returned the hug but he never noticed the dark smile that had slid across his doubles face and the fact that his copy's eyes had become pitch black…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes copying and pasting can glitch so I'd love you forever if you pointed out anything missing


	3. Chapter 3

America sat on a wooden chair holding his head in his hands. His right leg bounced up and down making the anxiety he was feeling even more visible. England had told him what had really happened, how Matthew had clearly been extremely agitated and deeply in shock before the British man had ever approached him. They had managed to move Matthew's limp, unconscious form to one of the empty bedrooms without being seen by any staff. "If anyone sees this scene they might blame us or try to help out, and humans never seem to know that leaving us alone is helping us greatly in itself." England had fumed bitterly.

What had made his brother so scared? Had it been that commie bastard Russia? No…Ivan had been in the meeting room the entire time. Suddenly remembering how invisible Canada could be at times, America paled. How long had Canada been there really? Could he have been curled up, petrified, calling for help for hours? Damn, why was it that he always managed to save everyone but his own brother?! Just then America heard a soft groan and Canada mutter his name. Alfred walked over to the bed and sat down carefully on the clean, white sheets that Matthew had begun to grip tightly. He must be having a night mare, Alfred thought to himself. Then he softly smiled as he stared at his younger brother, he looked so adorable when he was sleeping. America began to gently card his fingers through his sibling's soft, blonde hair and placed a protective arm round him. "Don't worry bro," He whispered quietly, "I've got your back."

England was irritated to say the least. He had just been brutally attacked by what's-his-face….oh right sorry Canada, the one he had dubbed "The Better Son". Obviously something had happened to the boy but until he found out what, he had taken away the title of being the better of the North American brothers. He rubbed at his bruised neck and sighed, where exactly was that frog? He was currently searching for France, no matter how useless he seemed at times he did know how to care for Canada when something was wrong. It was hard to admit that he was bested at something by France, but England just wasn't that good at dealing with Canada.

France hadn't been in the meeting room when he went in to check and he hadn't been leering outside the lady's restroom. So where else could he be? Walking down a hallway England stopped for a moment. Did he just her what he thought he did?

…

Yep, there it was again. England's hand smacked his forehead. He would know that obnoxious, narcissistic laugh anywhere, and when it was coming from behind a closed door to yet another bedroom it was really quite easy to understand what was going on. This hadn't been idea of explaining the current situation. England knocked loudly on the locked door and yelled, "FRANCIS YOU BETTER OPEN THIS BLOODY DOOR RIGHT NOW BEFORE I USE MAGIC TO DO IT FOR YOU!" What? Yelling was the only way he ever got the French man to shut up and do as he was told. From the other side of the door he heard small snippets of words being said in French and a shuffling noise. Soon enough France walked out of the room with a wry smile on his face. "Qu'est-ce que l'Angleterre? You know if you're jealous then you can just come join us! I wouldn't mind and I don't think Marie would either." He wiggled his eyebrows for affect, which just earned him a slap across the face.

"I don't need to take part in any of your disgusting business frog. In fact I don't even want to know about your fucking business!" England spat.

France smile grew even wider, "Was that pun intended l'Angleterre?"

For a moment England stood there confused but then, "CAN'T YOU KEEP YOUR BLOODY MIND ABOVE THE WAIST FOR FIVE GOD FORBIDDEN SECONDS?!"

Ugh! This man was infuriating! Why did he even come here in the first place? Francis was just getting more and more irksome by the decade. Suddenly his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Someone was calling him. Holding up a finger to silence France before the man could come up with any more clever taunts, he answered the phone. "What is it?" England snapped.

"Dude, where the Hell are you? Did you find France yet? You've been gone so long and I'm bored!" Oh. It was America. The man was over 200 yet he could still whine like a 5 year old.

"Also Mattie's still out cold so I have no one to talk to!" Ah yes, Matthew that was why he was here. A feeling of guilt began to slink into his head. Had he really forgotten about him already? He mentally chastised himself, "Well I found the bloody, good for nothing frog, so I'll be back in a jiffy. I'll see you soon." Snapping his cell phone shut with a sort of finality he looked back at France. He had obviously peaked the other man's interest by mentioning him in the conversation. With a weary sigh England pinched the bridge of his nose, "Francis I need your help with something, or rather someone."

"Ah, are you in love l'Angleterre? Is it avec l'Amérique? J'ai su que vous l'aimais!" England's face flushed bright red and he threw a punch, which the Frenchman easily dodged.

"Next time I won't miss." England hissed, "And for your information it's Matthew that needs help! I found him in the hallway clearly in shock and then he just attacked me! America came running along like an idiot and then knocked him out. If he hadn't come along I would have actually been killed."

Expecting some sort of flurry of French profanities or shocked apologies England became slightly confused when nothing happened. Instead France's face had become unreadable. His eyes had lost the playful shine and his smiling mouth had become a thin straight line. "Take me to see Mathieu."

"Do you know what could have happen-"

"Take me to where Mathieu is."

"…All right."

Upon waking Matthew was slightly confused. Where had the field gone? And the glass? Looking around, his doppelganger was nowhere in sight. What his eyes did fall upon though was his brother. He felt his heart begin to race. America held his head in his hands and his blonde hair hung over his forehead. Had something happened? Why was America so sad, he seemed so happy in the field laughing continuously while Canada killed- no Canada didn't kill them. It was him. America had killed his family not him. Matthew shivered slightly but made not a sound. Looking around he studied his surroundings. The room was plain and boring, the walls were painted a bland, off white colour and there were a few chairs and a small bedside table. It was obvious that he was lying down, but why was he lying down? Had that all been a dream? The voice… maybe the voice wasn't real either. He had dreamed all of it! Yes!

"No. Sorry not a dream, I'm pretty sure I am alive and kicking!" Canada's eyes darted to the seat next to America that had previously been empty. There he was; the other him. He was smiling sweetly. "Remember what I said before? Everyone's dead (but it's not your fault) this is just a game. They ignored you, forgot about you, left you ALL ALONE."

'No they didn't. America's right here. He's obviously worried about something.' Matthew thought.

"If he's so worried why hasn't he noticed you're awake yet? And sorry, again, love. I made this up. All of it. You're alone. You can kill whoever you want now, I know you want to because I've been inside that cute little noggin of yours!" His double chuckled a little and waltzed over to his bed and hugged him. "You are just so cute! I know how you long to be noticed, I do too! Why don't we help each other out in this game? If you let them all know about me I'll tell you how to win."

Canada wasn't sure he wanted to play this game anymore. He also was beginning to feel like the little voice was lying to him, but if it was, what did that mean? Was he crazy? Had he finally snapped? Or was he sick? That would explain why he was in bed, and the hallucinations…and the dull ache that had settled on the back of his skull. He jolted slightly as he felt his counterpart begin to stroke his hair in an almost lovingly gesture. It would have been kind of relaxing if it weren't for the continuous words that had begun to stream from the other's mouth. For the most part he ignored it; it's what he always used to do when the voice had actually stayed in his head. The last phrase caught his full attention though, "Oh dear little boy, sweet Matthew, you're so innocent and unaware… If your brother isn't ashamed of what he did… If he isn't afraid to tell you they're dead… Then why won't he show you his face?"

"Alfred?" Canada finally gasped aloud. It couldn't be true…nononono he-he was wrong…. He just needed Alfred to wake the fuck up and he could see the truth. "ALFRED." He repeated his brother's name louder this time, causing the American to jump awake loudly.

America jolted awake at the sound of his human name being called. Looking up he saw his brother awake on the bed he and England had laid him on. His brother seemed slightly pale and a wold look of fear was still bright in his violet eyes. "H-hey Mattie!" He said with a yawn, "You're finally awake huh?" America didn't even notice the aforementioned fear begin to grow in Canada's eyes. Alfred stood up and started to walk over to the bed and sit next to his brother. "Hey Matt, what happened back there? You know, you gave England quite the shock." … no response… "Matthew?"

"You can't have…" What? America cocked his head to the side slightly.

"Hey Matthew…what's wrong? What can't I have done?" He wasn't doing anything wrong was he?

"You can't have done it…. So wait… It's not a lie? No, I told you darling, not a lie. It was him. He killed them. But he looks like me! Every time I see it… the blood… It should have been me! I killed him!" America's eyes were wide. What was happening? His brother was acting like some dude in one of his movies that should be locked up in some mental hospital. Had whatever happened to him affected him this badly? No, it couldn't have made his little bro snap. He was too awesome to do that to America. Alfred shakily put up a hand but had it quickly swatted away by his sibling.

Canada was scared, very scared. When his brother looked up his face was full of laughter; contorted into a sickeningly sweet grin. The blood was spattered across the happy features was terrifying. When he was approached he became tense. The blood covering his brother began to drip on the clean white sheets. 'Don't touch me! Don't touch me!' He thought swatting away the gory hand America had begun to move towards him. "He's gonna kill you! You're gonna die now!" His double sang in an operatic voice. "What'cha gonna do now love? He wants to kill you too! Are you gonna kill or be killed? Hunt or be hunted?"

"I-I don't know! Please stop, please help me!" Matthew whimpered. His double sighed,

"Well I guess I have no other choice, you big lug."

England walked briskly behind France, who marched forward with his jaw set. The Frenchman refused to tell him what was happening so Arthur was forced to just guide him to the room. When they came to the door to the room it was quiet. 'Canada must still be asleep…' England thought. Alfred would never have kept quiet if his brother was awake. His curious nature would get the best of him.

England noticed that France's hands shook slightly as he reached for the doorknob. It turned slowly and with a click the wooden door opened. It creaked. Immediately England saw France pale significantly and his blue eyes opened wide. "What? What is it? Open the bloody door fully Francis and let me see what happened!" Already dreading what he was about to see England braced himself.

When France just continued to stare through the gap England pushed him out of the way and barged into the room. He stopped and blanched. The lamp that had stood on the bed stand was smashed on the ground and blood smeared the walls. On the ground though-oh dear lord the ground. Shards of the broken lamp were stuck in the man's chest and the once white carpet was now dark with blood. Helpless, glazed eyes stared up at him, they could only belong to one man. The mangled body was ravaged and the skin ripped to shreds. The body's face was unrecognizable. It was like someone was ashamed to see the corpse's face. England barely noticed the tears fall from his eyes. Canada might have disappeared from the room, but it was doubtful that America would be coming back anytime soon.


	4. Chapter 4

England quickly sprang into action. He knelt on the bloody carpet and examined America's body. He wasn't dead, it was impossible for a nation to die from wounds like this. America would have needed his nation's capital destroyed and population to be severely decimated for someone of his stature to be actually killed. Placing two fingers on the young man's limp wrist England felt no pulse but he knew it would be back soon. France still stood in the doorway stock still, eyes wide. "Why don't you go do something useful instead of standing here like a statue?" Arthur snapped. The Frenchman visibly flinched and England already wanted to take back the tone he had used. He knew that Francis was sensitive when it came to these things ever since Jean. He softened his voice, "Francis, why don't you go and tell the other nations what has happened and to help us look for Matthew. I'll stay with Alfred until he's at least got a pulse back.

"A-alright l'Angleterre." France managed stiffly.

After England watched the man scurry away he turned back to America's body. "What am I going to do with the two of you boys…?" He sighed quietly as he hung his head and began to lift the nation from the blood stained carpet onto the bed where Canada had lain on an hour before.

Canada slammed the large double doors behind him. He seemed to have entered a fancy dining hall. The walls were painted a dull cream and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. The mahogany tables were long and had red table cloths draped graciously over them. The world meeting locations never failed to impress but at the moment Matthew really couldn't give a fuck.

His shaky legs finally gave out from underneath him and he slid to the ground. Running a blood stained hand through his hair Canada let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. He had done it; he had killed the United States of America. Well not really killed, but put out of service temporarily.

"Nice to see you celebrating."

Ah yes, his double. He had begun to wonder where that sarcastic bastard had gotten off to.

"Hey quit with the name calling! You know you couldn't have done it without me!"

Matthew watched the other him saunter over and sit down next to him. "Well I guess you're right…So uh…Thanks for helping me kill my brother…Or something." He tried to smile but it was only a ghost of a grin. Matthew had to hand it to him though, without his twin's help he never would have been able to do it. Watching America approach him, covered in blood, and smiling maliciously was not exactly Canada's cup of tea. His instincts had been screaming for him to fight back and run, and so he did. He just needed help moving his body which had suddenly felt like it was encased in ice and each of his limbs weighed a ton. So his doppelganger took control. He could feel his limbs moving, but it wasn't how he wanted them to move. Matthew had watched his own hand grab the lamp and smash it over America's head. While his brother had been knocked to the floor Canada kicked him in the gut and began scratching at his face with his finger nails. The feeling of flesh tearing underneath his hands was still fresh in his mind. Yet…He didn't feel guilty. Why was that?

His double looked at him expectantly, a sly grin creeping its way up his face. "So, how do you feel? How did it feel?" Canada looked over at him with a curious mix of emotion awash on his face. "I can't really explain it yet. It's a kind of weird feeling. I-I mean I'm glad that he didn't kill me and I'm still here, but I feel guilty for doing it. Does that make any sense to you?" His double gave a short bark of laughter.

"Darling I am you after all, so of course it makes perfectly no sense at all! But c'mon, you got to tell me how committing it felt?"

"Committing it?"

"Yes love, committing it."

"It felt…good."

And that was no lie. Canada couldn't really explain it himself but it had felt good. No one had ever noticed him enough to give him power and this? Well this was power. He now knew why so many people were driven mad for a single taste of it. The ability to decide if someone should keep living or if they should stop existing was thrilling. His heart was racing just thinking back on the memory.

"That's it." His double cooed softly, running his fingers through Matthew's hair, "Enjoy the coppery smell of blood. Learn to relish this feeling. We're gonna have a good laugh you and I. Let's make sure they remember us forever."

"Who?" All the nations chorused at once. France had just come bursting through the doors to the meeting room; his face pale as a sheet and screaming about America being killed by some nation the others had never even heard of in their lives. Their voices began to rise as they chattered and clamored over each other; America was dead? Who was Canada? Why had France been skipping the meeting in the first place? Why was China making that weird noise? Was he laughing? And what the Hell was Prussia trying to-

"SHUT UP!"

Dead silence fell as Germany's loud voice rose above the rest. The large German cleared his throat and turned to the flustered Frenchman. "Now France, can you explain exactly to us the current situation?"

"Well you see it all started after I met this tres beaux maid and-"

"Please spare the dramatics." Germany sighed. France flushed and began speaking again seeming a little flustered.

"Ah! Of course Monsieur Germany! England came to me explaining that mon petit ange Mathieu- Canada- "

"Who is Canada- aru?" China called from his seat.

"He's the most awesome birdie I know!" Prussia interjected. Most countries turned their eyes to the albino man who had risen from his chair. "I don't know why you guys always forget about him! He's the second largest landmass on the Earth, he lives next to Russia but doesn't cower in fear, he's always being mistaken for America and he can kick ass!" Prussia continued to boast about his friend, "Hell he even got me out of a shit load of trouble a few times!" The albino turned to Ukraine who had been sitting next to him, "You know him too! He's given you all kinds of help over the years and you're on good terms too!" Ukraine nodded,

"It's true Matthew and I have been good allies over the years. He is a very nice young man, I can never figure out why we find it so hard to remember him!"

The meeting room was silent. There were many flushed faces, most of the nations were beginning to recall the embarrassing moments they mistook the quiet nation for his obnoxious brother. Finland raised his hand timidly and Germany nodded, giving him permission to speak, "I remember being with Canada a few times and he was very kind to me… So why would he hurt America? They always seemed to be so close."

Ah, now that was an excellent question wasn't it? Germany cleared his throat nervously and was about to speak when France cut him off, "Oh I fear it is my entire fault!" He wailed tragically, "I should have told l'Angleterre about it but I thought it had gone away! I thought it was something he did as a child!" The shaken Frenchman began to pace nervously, biting his thumbnail.

Germany raised an eyebrow, "What was it France? This could be important information."

France stopped pacing and stared at Germany with dead eyes. "When Mathieu was un enfant he was alone a lot. This was before l'Angleterre took him away from me to live avec l'Amerique. Whenever I would come home he would tell me about his friend and all the games they played, at first I assumed it was some child from the village nearby. When I asked him he told me that his friend's name was Canada as well. I guessed that it was an imaginary friend then. Children his age often had them, non? It was never an issue really he was always a lonely child so it seemed reasonable that he would have created some personnage to pass the time with. He always had his bear with him but it never seemed to be enough.

"After he went to live with l'Angleterre we didn't speak for a while but as he grew older we wrote letters. He would tell me a lot that his head was often aching and that his friend wouldn't leave him alone. I grew quite concerned at that point. He seemed to be a bit old for imaginary friends, and besides he wasn't alone anymore he had many people visiting and America would keep him company, when he wasn't fighting with England, that is. I noticed a pattern over the years though. When he is under high levels of stress he gets like this. After some meetings during the Great War he would confess that some days he could barely get out of bed due to his head ache and that he'd wake up somewhere he didn't remember travelling to. I thought he had grown out of it after that, he never spoke of it again!" France let out a choked sob and grabbed the front of Germany's suit jacket, pulling him in to hiss through clenched teeth, "Please Germany, help us! He is only a boy!"

Germany nervously cleared his throat, he could feel the burning stares of all the nations in the room on him. Normally he didn't mind the attention because let's face it, if it wasn't like that they'd be in utter chaos, quarreling amongst each other over frivolous details. But now? Germany had never seen all the nations this serious before and they were right, this was a serious matter. Another nation had snapped and killed, well sort of killed, his own brother! It was something that had never occurred before, a nation going mad, and why Canada of all nations? The most unlikely culprit of them all. It always seemed to be like that.

"We have no other choice." Germany sighed. Gently prying the shaking Frenchman's hand off of his jacket, Germany turned to face the other countries, "This meeting is over! We shall begin searching for Canada. Be careful he could be dangerous."

He grabbed France by the shoulder as they walked out of the meeting room. "I need you to take me to England, where is he?"

"He-he's in the room with America, where he was attacked. He said he wanted to stay there until he woke up." Germany nodded. Of course England would be worried about the man, if Prussia was attacked in a similar fashion he wouldn't want to leave his bed side either. Suddenly a small, hesitant voice piped up from behind the two nations causing them to turn in surprise, "U-um if I could, would it be alright if I came with you Doitsu? I-I mean if it's okay with you big brother!"

Italy stood rigidly behind them, eyes glancing around nervously. Obviously hearing about Canada attacking his own brother had unnerved the sensitive nation. Germany smiled awkwardly and glanced at France, "Is it okay with you France?"

The Frenchman clasped his hands together and smiled widely, his eyes were still red from crying but Germany could tell it was a genuine smile. "Of course mon petit! I wouldn't mind at all!" France dramatically leaned in to whisper, "It was getting a little stiff with Germany anyways." He winked causing Italy to giggle and he attached himself to his big brother's arm. "All right then! Ve~ Grazie France!"

When they arrived at the door to the room France halted. "They are in here. If you will excuse me, you two may go in without me; I will wait out here. Tell l'Angleterre about the search."

Germany nodded in thanks and Italy gave him a small, concerned smile. "Do not fear Feli! I am fine." With that the two nations entered the room. When the door closed behind them France let out a weary sigh and slid down the wall he had been leaning on. Letting a fresh tear roll down his face he whispered, "I was such a fool."

Canada jumped to his feet. He could hear the voices of Russia and China coming down the hall way from which he had entered the dining hall from. Scrambling quickly Canada looked desperately around the room.

"They're talking, they're walking! I hear them coming!" His double sang at the top of his lungs, "You better hide sweet heart! Don't want them to find you do you? Word's probably gotten by now that you killed him."

"How do you know that?" Canada gasped as he crouched down under a table and pulled the tablecloth down a little further to hide himself.

"Don't you remember? This is all a game! A game that I made I might add. I know these things, because I made it this way. My game is logical and shows you exactly what's gonna happen if you did kill these people. By the way you might want to aim big next time and go after Russia. You hate him, don't you? All those times he sat on you at world meetings? Yes, the world will be a better place without him, I think. I can already feel the heat bubbling up inside you darling, so you can't deny it!"

"Shut up will you!" Canada hushed his double, "They're coming in."

"I don't know why we have to look for Canada-aru! I don't even remember what he looks like!"

"He looks like America I suppose. That is what Prussia said, da?"

Canada grit his teeth. He hated it when people compared him to that idiot of a brother.

He heard China speak up again, "Well it looks like there is no one in here-aru. We should just go." Matthew waited to hear Russia's response…

"No." Well damn! He had hoped they would leave, he was beginning to feel a little cramped under this table. "You may want to wait outside for this China. I fear that we have a murderer in this room." Canada heard the large doors creak open and then shut quickly as China scurried from the vicinity. He heard Russia call out, "Not Matvey where are you? I hope you will not be trying anything stupid, da?"

"You have to wait until I say you can go." His double whispered. Canada hesitated then nodded.

"Oh Matvey!" Russia's footsteps echoed in the dining hall. "Come out come out wherever you be!" Shivers ran down Canada's spine as he heard the bone chilling scrape of his pipe dragging along the ground. Step. Scrape. Step. Scrape. Step. Scrape.

Silence.

Matthew saw the shadow of Russia's large feet through the tablecloth. He had to cover his mouth to stop himself from gasping aloud.

"Get up now. Show him yourself. Make them fear you."

Canada did as he was told and slowly crawled out from under the table. He looked across the wooden surface when he was fully standing and stared Russia dead in the eye. The large man smiled an icy grin. "Now Matvey," Russia said, "You don't strike me as an idiot. So what I can not understand is why you chose to hurt America…"

Strange. It sounded as though Russia was defending his nemesis.

"…When you obviously know that only I am allowed to do that."

Ah so that's what it was. "Tell me Russia. What do I look like to you?" It was a question that had come out of nowhere, but as soon as it popped into his head it came out of his mouth. The Russian man cocked his head to the side, "You look like your annoying brother." Canada began to slowly walk around the table and softly said, "No, you don't understand me. When you look at me now- like right now- what is it that you see?" Russia watched him calmly. "I see a man who is lost. I see a boy covered in the blood of his family. I see that you and I are not so different. I see Canada." Canada stopped. He was standing in nose to nose with the Russian. A slow smile crept up his face. He gave a short shrill laugh and grabbed Russia's hand, the one not holding the iron pipe. His eyes were manic and wide but the smile stayed plastered to his face. "Sorry, wrong again." With that he quickly grabbed Russia's thumb and pulled it back sharply causing a loud crack of bone to echo through the room. Russia pulled away quickly and snarled in pain. He swung his pipe at Canada's head but missed as his opponent ducked. Canada kicked out trying to trip up the larger man but ended up just kicking Russia in the shins, at least that added a little more pain. As the Canadian man stood he pulled his elbow back and hit Russia in the face with all the power he could muster. He laughed out loud as Russia grabbed the back of his dress shirt collar, the blood from his nose running down his face.

"Poor little Canada! He's such an innocent soul! I can't wait to see how twisted he can become! You've already had a taste of what he's capable of!"

Russia glared at Matthew, "You seem to be someone new. You are his friend,da?"

The young man said nothing but instead began to sing his national anthem, "Oh Canada! Our home on native land! True patriot love and all our sons command! With glowing hearts we see the rise-!"

Russia growled, "Who are you? What is your name?"

"The True north strong and free!"

"I said: who. Are. You."

"I'm Canada!"

Russia had had enough of this mad man. He grabbed the young man's head and slammed it down against the mahogany table. Canada went limp and Russia hoisted the body up and carried him bridal style. His thumb hurt like hell but that wasn't going to stop him. He walked out of the dining hall and China stood there nervously. "That is him-aru?" china glanced up at Russia's face, "You are hurt! What did he do to you?"

"He is a brave fighter, but he is mad and reckless." Russia avoided the question with ease, "We shall take him to England, da?"

China nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Canada became aware of was the dull ache that spread across his face. Then he heard the voices, "Well what are we going to do with him now?"

"We talk to him. Find out what is happening."

"I can help get some answers from him, da?"

"U-um Doitsu can I see if he is okay first? He has a big bump on his head and it probably hurts!"

Were those nations talking…about him?

They only notice you because you're in my game.

"It's only because I made them notice you."

Of course it was. His double seemed to be the only one he could trust in this game.

Groggily, Canada cracked his eyes open and stared at the small room he was in. He saw Germany, England, Italy, Russia and China over by a bed speaking in hushed tones. It seemed that he was in a chair. He was in a chair bound with rope. He was in a chair bound with rope so that he could barely even move his fingers. Why was he there again?

"Sorry Cana! I had to make you forget so you wouldn't give away any secrets!"

"Ah just shut up would you…" He mumbled. Despite his quiet voice the five countries spun around quickly to look at him. "Oh good, you're awake." England exclaimed nervously. "H-how do you feel Matthew?"

"Like I just got the crap beaten out of me by a freight train." He muttered. His gaze drifted over to another seat where his double was sitting. The copy of himself waved loftily and pointed at England, "Concentrate." He saw the man mouth.

"I apologise for any of the pain you are feeling comrade Matvey. You put up quite the fight. Did America teach you how to battle like that?" Ivan studied the small, now harmless looking blonde. A look of confusion clouded the Canadians face, "Why would you of had to…." Then he saw the flaking blood that still covered his arms and hands. The red was splashed across his front and made his skin itch horribly as it dried. "Ah!" He looked up to England, "What did I do? England? Tell me what I did!"

England was taken aback by this question. "You mean you don't remember?"

"Of course I don't remember! Ah God it's all over me isn't it?!" Canada struggled to break free from his bonds but it was to no avail. He felt hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, "What did I kill this time? Was it a moose? A rabbit?"

England could see the boy was about to have a full out panic attack, so he stepped in. "Lad, you need to calm down," He said reassuringly, "You didn't kill any animal. Have you ever done that before? I don't think so, hm?" England was beginning to untie the ropes that held Matthew's arms in place when he froze. "Matthew? What did you mean when you said 'This time'?"

"I-I'm sorry… It's b-been happening for a few months now…" Canada pulled his hands out of the undone knots and rubbed his wrists. "I lose time and find myself suddenly in one of my provinces…And there are these…These dead animals around me! I'm u-usually covered in the blood so I just thought th-that maybe I killed some animal o-or I finally snapped and…"

Canada trailed off and looked around the room at the nations. Italy clung to Germany who stared back at Matthew with a look of interest, England was gently urging him to continue speaking, China sat in an arm chair staring off at a crack in the wall and Russia had placed himself in front of the bed as if trying to hide someone. Someone was missing though. "England." The Brit felt himself flinch when he met the watery, violet eyes of the young man in front of him. How could a nation so young look so weathered and aged? "I need you to tell me truthfully…" Matthew spoke slowly, as if begging them to understand every word he spoke, "…Where is Alfred? Is-is this," He held up his shaking hands to show them all the dried blood, "All his?"

England let out a breath. How could he break it to the poor boy? 'Yes, you clawed off your own brothers face! But don't worry you didn't know you were doing it at the time so it's all okay!'

Only an idiot would be satisfied with that explanation and England knew that Canada was by no means an idiot, the exact opposite actually. There was a time when the colony was the best place to live in the entire world. He recalled the pride he had felt swelling in his chest when he had found that out. Then he was crippled by the shame he felt afterwards when realised he couldn't call him because he didn't know Canada's personal phone number. He had been too proud to give America a ring and he could still hear the disappointed voice of France as he gave it to the Englishman. That was one of the things with France, he never got upset with him, he would just give him a soft, knowing nudge to do better next time. 'What a strange family we were.' England thought. So many years I cared for this boy and I still don't know how to talk to him.

"Arthur." England was snapped from his reverie, "Did I kill my brother?"

Arthur didn't have to answer as he heard a rustling from the bed and a voice coming from behind Russia, who stepped aside quickly. "Yeah, you did. You beat me Mattie, and God you need to learn to be a bit gentler next time." The shattered look that filled Canada as he looked at the scarred features of his brother was unimaginably painful. His shoulders sunk and his back was hunched. His violet eyes were wide and his lips were pursed together tightly. Alfred touched the scratches on his face, "Don't worry about these! They'll heal. I'm more worried about you Mattie, will you heal?"

"Me, Al? You're worried about me?"

"Mattie, people don't just snap and randomly kill the United States of America. They also don't take on Russia and claim to be someone else that wants to make you a twisted killer."

"That's not true! He-he wants to play a game!" That got people's attention, including his doubles. He saw his copy staring at him with a no-nonsense expression. He shouldn't have mentioned it. "You said it was okay for me to mention it so don't look at me like that!"

"That was then, this is now. Rules change."

"Mattie…bro? Who are you talking to?"

Canada pointed to his double who had draped themselves across the arm chair. "Him."

"There's no one there Matthew."

"Da there is. It's him, is it not Matvey? The one I spoke to earlier?"

"I don't know who you spoke to earlier but if you mean my double then sure, yes, it is."

He watched his double stand up and start to walk around the room. His copy picked up a book end from a bookshelf and tested the weight in his hands.

"Where is he now Matvey?" Russia seemed to be on to something so the other nations kept quiet and let him talk.

"He is right behind China. He is holding a bookend from the shelf."

China twisted to look behind himself, visibly spooked. "There is no one there aru."

"He is right Matvey. The book end has not been moved."

Canada faltered and cocked his head. His brow furrowed, "No he definitely has the book end. He's holding it up now, he's-" Everyone in the room saw the blood drain from the man's face. "He just killed China. Oh no…" He groaned bringing his hands up to his face. "Put it down. No nonono please! Please no! Get away from me!" Canada rose out of the chair while the other nations stood around watching him with wide eyes. Italy whimpered and buried his face into Germany's side. England took a step forward hoping to offer some comfort to his former colony but felt America grab his hand. He turned to look at the blonde man sitting up in bed who just silently shook his head. "You guys should just leave the room for now. I think all the people are getting to him."

"That is a sound prediction." Germany agreed. He nodded to the door. "Shall we?"

England sighed, "It would be best." Canada had backed into a corner and curled into the fetal position. He helped Alfred limp to the door and when they were about to shut the door America looked back at his brother, "I wish there was something I could do for you Mattie."

As the door clicked shut they never heard Matthew's muffled, strained voice, "You could try not to leave me."


	6. Chapter 6

"hEY! Somebody! plEASE OPEN THE DOOR! AH GOD! IT HURTS SO MUCH! ALFRED? ALFRED HELP ME!"

America slumped against the wall listening to his brother claw at the door beside him. By the sound of it Canada's self-proclaimed "Double" was burning him alive or something. Alfred clenched his fists, 'I wish I could do something to help you dude, I really do.' He thought.

The cuts on his face had healed and all that was left now were small scars around his jaw and on his forehead. It wasn't fair that his brother had to have this happen to him; he was the kindest person that America knew and had never done anything to deserve such a fate. When Matthew had confessed how long it had been going on though…that was what really freaked America out. Why hadn't he noticed something was off? He tried to think back on times when his brother had been acting strange but his stomach began to feel queasy when he realised he couldn't recall the last time he had even seen Canada. America felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes; he didn't know… he didn't know how long it had been. Weeks? Months? A year maybe? Could it have been because he was left alone for so long that America had unintentionally driven Mattie insane? The incoherent sounds coming from the door sounded louder than ever now.

Alfred was disgusted with himself.

Disgusted and afraid.

He felt bile rise in his throat and his stomach churn. He bent over and threw up on the carpet. Great, now he felt like shit and an uncaring bastard. He stood up, knees shaking slightly and chills racking his body.

He heard someone rushing down the hallway towards him but didn't bother to look up. He just stared at the vomit in front of him on the floor. Already he could feel the start of a head ache settling in. Suddenly America felt a firm hand grasp his chin and turn his head. Alfred stared down at the concerned Englishman. The Brit's mouth was moving but the sound that came out was just useless drabble. It was like listening to adults speaking in Charlie Brown. A small slap on the cheek fixed that though.

"Bloody Hell America! You look like death warmed over!" England glanced down at the vomit on the ground and frowned, "Did you do this?" He brushed away Alfred's bangs and placed a hand on his former colony's brow. He felt the taller man lean in to the touch. "Hmm…You have a bit of a fever… Maybe it's part of the healing process…"

America ignored England, "Iggy," He saw the blonde glare upon hearing the nick name, "When was the last time you talked to Matt?"

"I hardly see how this is relevant."

"C'mon, just think." He whined.

…

…

…

…

"I…"

"You don't know, do you?" America said. This made the tightness in his chest worse. "It's the same with me."

England bit his lip nervously, "Why does it matter anyways Alfred? Canada knows a lot of other nations so I'm sure he's just been hanging out with them lately."

Now it was America's turn to frown. "Yeah it's possible, but if Mattie has been trying to talk to others then how do we know that these supposed 'others' would even hear him, let alone see him?"

England was once more reminded of the young country's unfortunate ability to be over looked most of the time. It made him feel nauseous to think that his son had been alone for…who knows when? Upon reflecting Arthur couldn't even remember a meeting where he had noticed the man. He could see now where America was going with this conversation.

"I'm just saying…Maybe Canada hasn't been having this happen because he was stressed but…Maybe it's because these were the moments he was alone the most? Think about it, France mentioned the Revolutionary War to us; Canada was all by himself during that time. You were on the front lines for pretty much all of it. Then there was when you first got him from Francis, I didn't care much for him back then and just left him after what…Five minutes? You were working most of the time so it would be easy to neglect him. When he became independent it would be hard for him to deal with actually living by himself for the first time. Now we have present day where no one can remember the last time we noticed him. What if this 'friend' of his is his inner demons, his fears and doubts? This Double is the part of him that knows we won't change. Maybe this is really who Canada is?"

"Alfred…" The only thing scarier than America's theory was the fact that it was probably the truth. England was terrified, and guilt welled up inside him. "You need to-"

"Shut up, Iggy." Alfred growled.

"All I'm saying is-"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

England was taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"Listen." America said cocking his head to the side.

England did listen but noticed nothing. He gave Alfred a questioning look.


	7. Chapter 7

It was quite strange; the sudden silence that reached his ears. With a groan, Canada sat up slowly and looked around. It was dark, pitch black surrounded him. He began to think he was alone until the eerie tinkling of off-key notes from what sounded like a music box built slowly from beyond. Canada stood up and began to walk towards the broken song, not knowing what compelled him to do so. The sound of his footsteps echoed in time. There was a lump beginning to form in the pit if his stomach. His hands shook and he had broken out into a cold sweat. Then he saw it.  
\----------  
America shook his brother's limp body and called out for him. England and he had opened the door to find Canada lying prone on the floor. Alfred had run over to him. He felt England place a hand on his shoulder. "Up you get, lad." he said gently, "you're still unwell." America heaved himself up from the ground with some help from Arthur. "So... What now?" America asked awkwardly. England hesitated, still a little unsure.  
"Well, it seems like we do nothing." America looked at him like he had just said that eagles weren't the most majestic creatures to set foot on the earth (well that's true but he didn't say it!). "What do you mean we do nothing!? He's my fucking brother and you think that I'm going to just sit down and drink your stupid tea with you?"  
"Alfred, you don't understand. This battle is happening in Matthew's head. We can only hope for the best and that when he wakes up, he's the same nation he was before this whole mess started." America glared at England. "You don't want him to go back to what he was before this. That's what got him into this mess in the first place. If we go back to before it's Matt all alone again. All alone when I should have been there looking out for him. I never should have forgotten him! This is all my fault, if he had had me there to talk to he could have vented, he wouldn't have been so stressed and he never would have snapped..."  
America continued to rant and England felt his heart sink at the sudden realization that his little brother blamed himself for this mess. America, being the hero he thought he was, always seemed to feel like things were his fault. "Alright lad, let's get your brother off the floor." England said, changing the subject. America sighed and nodded. Arthur noted that he made no effort to brush away the fresh tears that had fallen from his eyes.  
\--------------------  
"You've been a terribly bad boy." His double said. Canada flinched when he picked up the music box and smashed it against an obsidian wall. His double muttered something about it getting too bothersome. "What... what did I do wrong? You said I could tell them, you said I could-" "I also said that rules. Can. change. And it looks like you weren't paying attention. All I wanted was to watch you spiral into the insanity I had to. I needed you to break, like a mirror! Seven years bad luck for breaking one of those, or in your case, forever." Canada frowned. Something akin to fear stirred in his chest. His double stepped closer to him and smiled a bone chilling grin. "Have something to say?" Canada spied the metallic glint of something behind his double's back.  
A beat passed and then he spoke with courage he hadn't used since the world wars, "Bite me."  
\---------------------  
France sat, alone in the meeting room. All of the other nations had gone to their rooms located elsewhere in the building and according to Germany they would reconvene tomorrow. He nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard the door crash open. It made him think of when Matthew used to live with him and, during the night whilst in his study, the door would open accompanied by the small patter of a frightened child's foot steps and-  
"Are you alright Francis? I've been looking everywhere for you." France looked up and tried to give Spain a watery smile but his face seemed intent on keeping the weary expression. "Non, mon ami. I am far from alright." Antonio pulled over a chair and sat down next to his old friend. "In so sorry about Canada. I remember him as a small boy and he was very cute, but stubborn. A lot like Roma, he wore his heart on his sleeve." He passed France a shy smile. "Don't be sorry Spain. Why are people always so sorry about these things? They are to kind and keep feeling bad about events that occur in other's lives. Eventually they worry so much they become too busy to notice their own faults and that is what happened to me. I wished to honor l'angleterre and not bother him. I knew it would hurt having to deal with me after losing Alfred to freedom's call. I never visited even though I knew something was wrong . Canada was hurting and I ignored that fact just because I pitied an ally."  
"Never blame yourself for these things; what is, is. Lots of problems happen when you're a nation but in the end we adapt, because it's the only thing we can do. Canada is strong and I am confident that he'll be back to normal as soon as possible." When he finished, Spain stood from his chair and left the room quietly. He stopped at the door and looked back at the wide eyed Frenchman. "You did well with him. You should be proud."  
The door shut quietly but muffled sobs could still be heard from outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be just a transition chapter and also a look into where France had run off to, he hasn't been in the picture for some time but I love writing him. Next update we might see an awake Matthew, but will be the same one that we know?


	8. Chapter 8

America nearly jumped for joy when he saw Matthew's eyes flutter open. He poked his brother's cheek when they closed again. "Hey, c'mon bro. Don't leave me hanging here." I need to know if you're really... well... you. He finished silently. Canada mumbled something and burrowed his face further into the pillow. "What was that?" Alfred asked.

"You're no ones hero right now if you won't let me sleep." America smiled softly. 

"You've been sleeping for far too long if you ask me." 

He continued to poke the younger blonde's cheek. Canada opened his eyes again and glared at his assailant. He pushed away the hand and snapped at him, "All right, all right, I'm up. Just give me a minute will you?" 

"You've had more than a minute."

"Shut up, stop being an idiot America! I need a minute... maybe two."

Alfred's smile faltered and he stood up. "All right bro. No need to flip your shit. I'll give you time."

When Alfred closed the door England, who had been waiting outside for him asked, "Is he...?"  
America shook his head with a sad little smile.

"He called me America."

"So?"

"He's always just called me Alfred or Al. Also... he called me an idiot."

England frowned . That didn't sound like the Matthew they knew. Canada loved his brother and wouldn't insult him like that.  
Matthew had clearly lost the battle.  
America scratched the back of his neck and finally voiced the unspoken question in the room, "So, what now?"

\-------------------

Canada looked in the mirror and a wide smile erupted across his features. There was a strange light in his eyes that some would recognize as madness. "How's it feel to be trapped on the inside Mattie? It's hard isn't it?"

He felt the real Matthew-no-the weak Matthew frown and spit some very unkind words at him, "Now that wasn't very nice, was it? Someone should have taught us manners when we were little. Oh! But of course... Everyone who knew us then..." He leaned into his reflection and gave a shrill laugh, "left us all alone."  
Canada felt the weaker man fighting inside of him. He let out a chuckle and pushed down the struggling personality. "See ya later alligator! I've got a show to put on." Canada walked over to the door and composed his features into a neutral expression before leaving the room. This was going to be so much fun.

\-----------------------------------------

When Canada left the room he was surprised to see France and Russia had joined the party.

"So where are we heading to? What's going on?" He tried to ask as innocently as possible.

"We'll be heading to the meeting room to try and figure out what we do now." England said, "you're still unwell and we can't just go around waiting for another... incident." Canada narrowed his eyes, there was a nervous tinge to the Brit's voice. Could it be that they... no. No, they couldn't know. They didn't care about him. Therefore they couldn't notice anything different. He smiled and started walking towards the meeting room, "Well then, what are we waiting for?" He missed the nervous glances exchanged by the four nations behind him.

They had only walked about 30 steps when Canada stopped in front of them. Russia tilted his head to the side, this was beginning to get very interesting.

"Hey, America ..." The small blonde began, " I noticed you weren't looking too good." Canada turned to face them, "could it be that you're unwell?"

Russia saw America tense up for a minute but relax as he let his guard down.  
"Because if you're unwell..." Matthew continued, stepping forward. "Then you'll be easier to kill first."

A silence hung in the air.

There was a large bang as America was slammed into the wall. Canada held his brother by the throat and America gasped for air. It only took a single, yet powerful, box to the head for Alfred to fall limply to the ground. France, England and Russia stood frozen. Canada turned around to smile at them, "I think he needs medical attention." England charged at him.

"You bloody, bastard! Give. Me. Back. My. Son." Be punctuated each word with a punch but each swung missed their mark and Canada side stepped each one. Looking bored, Matthew grabbed England's wrist and held it steady.

"Son?" He whispered, "this morning you only had one son, and he's right there on the floor... What makes you think you have the right to another?" 

The sound of the Englishman's arm snapping was almost sickening but it was nothing Russia wasn't familiar with. France stepped back and looked to him. Russia understood what he was asking and nodded. 'Go find help.' Was the idea they both shared. He didn't watch him scurry off.

Canada still stood solemnly in front of him. "Now, Matvey; that wasn't very nice. What happened to the small invisible boy? I liked him more... of course... You're not Matvey at all are you?" Canada grinned triumphantly back at him.

"Oh, but I am. Maybe if you had paid more attention then you would recognize me Ivan."

Russia snorted at that statement, "You are much like a child. Attention you seek? You have it. You have us all interested. Now I would very appreciate it if you gave me back my Matvey. I don't like it when people mess with my play things." 

Russia stepped forward and ,with a glint of insanity in his eyes that could rival Matthew's own, he swung his pipe. England struggled to stand, holding his arm, but was knocked back by a kick to the head while Canada dodged the large man's attack. 

"Sorry England!" Russia chuckled as he moved past the Brit. Canada threw a kick to Russia's side and was pleased by the sound of ribs cracking on impact. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to phase Ivan in the slightest. The Russian grinned instead. 

"You should not have done that."

"Shut up you old bastard. You're just as lonely as me, anyone can see that. I can't understand why you're even fighting for these idiots. They don't need you! Haven't you seen the way they look at you? The fear? Why do you stay with them? Why not let them go? Why do you even love people who will never love you back?" 

This time when Russia smiled it was a sad, bittersweet grin. 

"Because..." He said as he watched the surprise on the man's face as a single blade pierced through his chest from his back.  
"... I don't want them to feel the way I have. I don't believe that any of them could even imagine how it feels."

He nodded at the trembling Frenchman who pulled the sword from his fallen son's body. Russia felt something pull at chest as he turned to walk away from the limp young man and his father figure. He paused and turned back to smile at France "And bedsides, it's like he said... I'm just an old bastard who can't let go."


	9. Chapter 9

There was a pain in his chest. Why was that? He vaguely heard a voice shouting. Was it a voice he knew? He didn't know. He didn't know anything. He didn't know who "he" was. All that could register in his fading conscience was the cold creeping steadily through his body, but his chest, where the pain radiated, he could feel warmth pumping out around it. He could feel something that a nation could usually only dream and hope to experience through a miracle. He could feel the hands of Death chilling his soul to the bone.

France called for help. His entire being shook and his hands that had suddenly become clumsy uselessly pressed against the stab wound. The stab wound he had put there.

A nation usually wouldn't be injured by such a trivial thing but when it is caused by another nation and the health of the victim was already poor, then the results could be fatal.  
The usual pale complexion that Canada maintained managed to somehow look more sickly. He was like a clean, white sheet.

"Merde, mon petit Mathieu, je suis désolé. Je suis très désolé."

He whispered over and over between calling for help. Tears ran down his face. The boy's breaths were becoming softer and his limp body was growing colder. Behind him he heard a familiar flutter.  
France needn't look behind him, he was achingly familiar with the thing that hovered around him. They could almost be considered old friends. France hunched protectively over his son's body, "Bonjour mon ami. It has been a while."  
A deep, ancient voice answered him. It was the sound of someone who had seen too much, lived longer than one should.

"Indeed it has. I believe it was the second world war, no?"

France finally turned to glare at the entity. It was impossible to describe the figure as it was always changing, at one moment it could be seen as an elderly man, the next a small girl no more than six. They were flickering slightly and a soft glow could sometimes be seen. The only thing that didn't change was the voice and the wry, sad smile.

"You are not getting him Death. I can't allow you to do that."

Yes, Death. Whether they were an angel or an anomaly like the nations was never clear. Though France held his own beliefs in a higher power he was not entirely sure if Death belonged to any religion known to man. They would appear to take a soul then leave into the unknown.

"You have no power over me, friend. You always try though, that's why I like you the best. She does too."

They would always mention "She". Every time France would ask who She was he would only get a wider smile and a small shake off the head.

"I am a beautiful lie Death, why must you be seen as the ugly one? Please, take me instead. Mathieu is still young, he has so much to experience. You know I am ready, please, take me instead."

"If life is an ugly lie and experience as a nation means only more pain would you really wish that upon your own son? You have made it so far, why give up now?"  
France gave Death a pained look and held Canada closer to his chest, "Because people haven't known him yet. Because he is a beautiful, intricate, constellation of joy. The others, they have only now acknowledged him because of the monster inside of him and believe him to be only that when in fact; Canada is the embodiment of innocence and freedom and he is like a temperate breeze blowing forever through a field of overflowing life. He is my son. My friend. I had a chance. I will be remembered. He will fade from minds quickly, like sand in an hour-glass."

Then, for the first time ever, Death stopped smiling. They did not so much walk or glide but flow towards the two men. They bent down to gently caress France's face with small, child-like hands. It felt like smooth glass on his cheek. Even though words were not spoken in that moment, he understood. He looked into the eyes of Jean and almost cried upon seeing her face flushed with joy at seeing him again.

"Do not fear, mon amour. When we leave, we leave for a beautiful place. One where we are rejoiced and loved. We become a part of Death, as will he. He will be loved."

She gestured to Canada who lay, no longer breathing, in his arms.

"Mon cherie, I ..."

Words failed him. France had no more to say. He would always lose this battle with Death and how could he say no to Her?

"Je t'aime." Jean whispered as she flickered away and was replaced by another smiling soul. Then, with a flutter, they were gone.

When America woke up he was afraid. Not of the apparent monster attack that clearly was the only possible reason for his headache. Nor was it the way his throat seemed to resent every breath of air he tried to inhale.

It was the complete silence. The type of quiet that hadn't spelled anything but blood and tears in his past. He heard a silence like this on the battle field where he lost everything. America was afraid to open his eyes, he was tired of losing everything. It was such a tiresome cycle.

"Don't love anyone, America " he remembered hearing England day once, "they will only die and disappoint you. "

He learned the hard way from Davie and Amelia Earhart.

Actually, no. He hadn't learned. America was the man who was cursed to climb too high, fall too far and love too hard.

The shaking sobs from France were what confirmed his fears. America didn't know how, he couldn't remember why but he knew that his brother was dead. He could feel it inside himself, like a piece had floated off into the middle of the ocean, gone to other places, never to return.

America finally opened his eyes to see England lying on the floor, still unconscious, and his arm bent at a strange angle. He slowly turned his attention to France clutching something...no...someone. Matthew.  
France had his face buried in his sons neck and his body a was wracked with sobs that shook his entire being.

America rested his head back against the wall he was propped up against and whispered,"Aw Mattie. Why'd you have to lose to him? He was a real bastard ya know that right?"  
But maybe his brother hadn't. Maybe he was so confused, so trapped that he hadn't had time to figure that out. No.  
No, America remembered the look on Canada's face in that room. When he was helpless. When he was still himself.

"I didn't get to be your hero Matt." America smiled and shook his head ruefully. He refused to let the tears come. "You promised that I could save you once, remember that?" Actually, screw that! Why shouldn't the tears come. This was family, this was special. He didn't care anymore if France heard him or not.  
He didn't really care about anything in fact.  
England was right, when you grow up your heart dies.

Canada felt like he was suffocating. There was someone holding him down.

That other him was gone; the terrible one. He had left with them. That thing that kept changing. Before it vanished though it looked at him in the shape of a grinning, beautiful woman with short blonde hair. She wore armor that was slightly singed and she spoke with a French accent.

"Tell him that I continue to fight for his will alone." She said. "Tell him I will burn for leaving you behind for him. Tell him I love him."

Canada didn't know who "He" was but he hung onto her words. For the first time in a very long time, his mind felt clear. He felt... Good. Canada's eyes fluttered open and he found himself within the crushing embrace of a tall, thin, man. He was crying. There was something inside Canada that told him "this is the one she spoke about.". His body felt like it had been through a battle and was slightly reminiscent of the war of 1812.

Using the last bit of strength before falling back into darkness Matthew whispered into the man's ear.

"She said she loves you."


	10. Chapter 10

When England came to he was lying on a bed. He didn't remember going to bed. Also, his arm had a dull ache resonating from it. He blinked a few times before sitting up.

He stared ahead at the wall blearily then finally found the energy to turn his head.

He winced as a sharp pain flashed through his brain. Putting a hand to his temple he was surprised to feel a large scab of dried blood.

The room was empty except for his duffle bag that he usually carried with him to world meetings and a few sparse pieces of furniture that made up an altogether bland decor job.  
The door creaked open and England was surprised to see Germany enter his room.

"I see you have woken up," the tall German stated, "how is your head?"

England blinked at him blankly for a moment then quickly responded, "ah, yes... I mean-my head is- my head is fine. A little muddled i think and a bit of a headache, but nothing i can't handle..." He coughed awkwardly after realizing how much he had rambled.

"That is to be expected." Germany said with a nod, "France kicked you quite hard- by accident of course."

England frowned.  
" why would he..."

Then it all came rushing back to him. Every last gory detail. He remembered the choking sensation and the horrible sight of America's face, ripped to shreds. He remembered Ivan carrying his boy's limp body into one of the rooms and insisting that he be restrained.

The screams. There had been so much screaming, and it hadn't all been Matthew's.

He remembered everything.

He remembered the reason his heart had felt so heavy since waking up.

He remembered why he felt so broken.

Prussia stood in the empty hallway. The carpet was stained with blood. His Birdie's blood. "Verdammt..." He cursed.

This was his fault. He remembered the missed calls on his phone. Matthew kept calling, probably for help. He ignored the calls. Deleted the messages. He had his own problems. He was scared when they stopped coming. Soon it was him who had calls ignored and messages deleted. At this meeting he was supposed to apologize.

He was too late.

When Germany had walked into his room the first thing he had said was "Hey West, have you seen my sword? I left it in the meeting room but it wasn't there."

His younger brother had looked at him with shockingly weary eyes and tossed the sword onto his bed. All questions had died in his throat when he'd seen the bloodied blade.

He knew exactly what had happened.

Now Prussia lifted the phone to his ear as he stood on the dark blood stain. Of course it reached voicemail. It always would.

This time though, he listened.

He listened to the voice of Matthew Williams. Not a country.

Not an ally, or an enemy, or a partner.

Matthew Williams.

A person.

"Hi you've reached the inbox of Matthew!" In the background the high voice of his polar bear could be heard asking his name again. "Hush Kuma, I'm doing something. Anyways uh... I guess you could leave a message... If you even hear this..." The last part was barely audible. Prussia had heard this message countless times but he'd been too worried even notice the final four words that were whispered "but I doubt it..."

Prussia stood there quietly for a while, his throat dry. "Hey, uh, Matt! How are you? Well... not... not good I guess. God... You are amazing. You are truly a piece of work. I just... Matthew Williams-birdie- you-you are the strongest man I know. I'm not joking. You stand as tall as that awesome CN Tower or whatever. I just want you to know... I'm here. I miss you. All the other guys here? They aren't my biggest fans. I mean, Spain and France are pretty awesome, but you're just ... How can I put this into words? You're bright. You shine. You make me feel okay. Verdammt, Birdie I-"  
The phone cut him off.

What was he about to say? "Birdie I..."

The silence hung him like a noose.

He stood there and let it choke him; because a dead man couldn't cry.

France stared at the two boys in the bed in front of him. America's fever had gotten worse and he soon became unresponsive in his deep slumber. Canada on the other hand...

France's eyes strayed to the smaller, paler boy. His cheekbones were gracefully dusted with the same flush as his brother. The only difference being his dreams.

France could see Mathieu's eyes moving, searching, under his eyelids for something only he could see. The only time he had spoken was the times he had cried out in fear. France was guilty to admit that he felt a small swell of happiness, for every word that had passed the boys lips thus far had been spoken in French.

"She said she loves you."

France shook his head. No. He couldn't. Those memories- those feelings had to be put to rest. She was gone from this world and there was no need to fall back in love with her now. But those words had made him freeze. They had stolen the joy of hearing his dear Mathieu speaking again.

Jean d'Arc had finally told him her last words. He couldn't have said them better himself.

"...Papa?"  
France jumped when he heard the soft voice call out for him. He was about to whisper the same words to Canada that he had so many times before 'hush mon ange. It is just a dream.' Then he saw the violet eyes staring up at him.

"Mathieu..." France whispered. He wanted to embrace his son but didn't want to reopen the bandaged wound on his chest.

"Papa." Canada said again. He smiled and France almost had to look away; it was so bright. France placed a shaking hand on his boy's face and cupped his cheek. Using his fingers he brushed away a few stray pieces of hair. "Where have you been mon petit? I've been looking for you." He asked softly, searching Matthew's face.

"I was looking for you." Canada replied, still beaming. His eyes were watery and a stray tear trickled down his face. "I guess I just got lost."

France bit his lip but then let his face burst into a smile. "You didn't get lost mon ange, tu as été ici tout le temps. I must have been looking in the wrong places."

"Merci, papa."

France bent over in his chair to press a firm kiss on the side of his son's head. Canada sat up and nuzzled into the crook between France's neck and shoulder. France finally embraced his boy and pressed his face into Matthew's soft hair.

His boy was still broken.

He didn't want to let go in fear that he would fall back into pieces.

So they didn't let go.


	11. Chapter 11

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Canada looked up at his brother and forced a smile onto his face.

"I'm fine, Al. You've asked about fifty times already."

"I know, I'm just looking out for my baby brother. Doing what I haven't for a long time."

Matthew frowned at America. He hated hearing his sibling beat himself up over this.  
After he had woken up Canada had felt better than he had ever felt before; it was as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Despite this he was still weak. He may have been a nation but when it came to being injured by another country it meant that he would be affected just like any other human would be. It had been a long time since he had had to deal with a stab wound and those things hurt like a bitch. Now he was recovered and America volunteered to drive him home from New York to Ottawa. England and France had to be getting home so they bid him a tearful farewell. It had been hard work getting his papa to release him from the embrace. France's parting words had been "Je voudrais vous ramener chez vous si je pouvais"

Then, something odd happened. As Alfred started up the car and began to drive away from the building that held such horrible memories Matthew had spotted Prussia run outside. The way he looked around seemed desperate. The last thing Canada remembered seeing was the Prussian staring intently at him through the tinted windows. There was unmistakable regret in his pink eyes and the raw emotion burnt through him.

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence and the occasional worried questions and fussing from America. It wasn't awkward though; it was actually a very comforting silence. Canada had always loved the peace and quiet so it was very rare for him to feel uncomfortable during the moments of calm.  
When the red Ford stopped in front of Canada's flat, America sat sullenly in the front seat. Now was the time for Canada to actually feel discomfort. This was strange for his normally energetic, confident brother; so the two men just sat there for a good 20 minutes.  
Eventually the stillness was broken by America when he asked in a quavering voice, "Do you…Do you want me to go in with you?"  
"No thanks, Al. I think I'll be okay." Kumajirou probably hadn't eaten the sofa. The intelligent bear new where his food was and if he ever needed anything then the land lord would have picked him up.

"You really should get your own place Mattie. Like, a huge, awesome house, like mine." America said with a small laugh. His brother smiled at him before glancing down at his nervously clasped hands. His grin melted off his face again. "Are you…Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? Help you unpack or anything? I actually stopped by here yesterday to check up on Kuma and…"

"Alfred." Canada interrupted his brother, "I can look after myself. Things are going to get better. I just… I need some me time. I haven't had a lot of that for a very long time."  
Matthew opened the door of the car and stepped out. He walked around and popped open the trunk to take his duffel bag out. Alfred climbed out of his side too. He leaned his back against the Ford and stuck his hands in his pockets looking slightly dejected. Canada walked over to him and looked at him with a knowing smirk.

"Stop trying to guilt trip me, bro. You know that only works with England."

"America raised his eyes to stare sadly at him. Matthew laughed and elbowed his side. "I told you. It's just England who falls for it. Maybe Japan."

Suddenly America threw his arms around his brother and held him tightly. "I'm going to visit every weekend." Canada heard him mumble into his shirt. Matthew managed to free one of his arms and wrapped it around Alfred's back. After another minute the two brothers let go and Canada walked up the side of the building where the door to his flat was. He took a deep breath and took out his keys.

Canada didn't really know what he expected to find inside. The thing that did come as a surprise was the crashing sound of a polar bear bounding from his bedroom to barrel into him. The force knocked the breath out of him and he found himself on the ground with a huge ball of fur nuzzling into his face. "You okay?" Matthew heard a squeaky voice ask.  
He hugged Kumajirou and answered, "I am now, buddy."

When Canada stood up he could tell something was off. It had occurred to him before that this whole ordeal was too easy; it ended too quickly. Now the idea had returned. He had left this very home about 2 weeks ago as a total wreck. Perhaps Al had fixed all of that when he checked up on Kuma yesterday. Vague, pain filled memories allowed him to recall stumbling around with the high screeching in his head caused by the other him. Before that moment though, he had no memory of what happened. There were days, maybe months of time missing in his head.

In the end he put it down to the fact that he was still tired. This kind of thing doesn't just blow over in a day. Canada hadn't even unpacked his bag when he fell into bed with one of his best friends in the world (that also happened to be a polar bear).

When he awoke the next morning he felt odd. The sensation of something being off in his home was still not settling well in his gut. He groggily pulled his head up to check what the glowing red numbers on his clock said. When his tired eyes managed to decipher the symbols he figured out why he felt wrong. It was 3:00 in the fucking morning. What the hell, man?  
With some effort Matthew managed to push himself up into a sitting position. Once he accomplished that feat he was left staring into the darkness. It was that time of the night- or morning rather- that allowed doubts to creep into his mind.

What if there was something wrong? What if he had never gotten better?

The swirling onslaught of fear was about to consume him when a certain flashing in the corner of the room caught his eye. Canada heaved himself up and stumbled, blindly to his bag. On top of it was his cell phone which was flashing. When he turned it on he saw the numerous voice mails. He had nothing better to do so he decided to listen to them.

Most were boring messages from concerned members of his parliament that he reminded himself to call later in the day when it was about the time for sane people to be awake. Then, he got to Prussia's. Before putting the phone to his ear Canada had to take a moment to think.  
Was this the reason Gil had looked so distraught yesterday? What could he have said? Matthew couldn't remember the last time that they had talked and was beginning to feel slightly nervous. Never the less, he listened intently.

"Hey, uh, Matt! How are you? Well... not... not good I guess. God... You are amazing. You are truly a piece of work. I just... Matthew Williams-birdie- you-you are the strongest man I know. I'm not joking. You stand as tall as that awesome CN Tower or whatever. I just want you to know... I'm here. I miss you. All the other guys here? They aren't my biggest fans. I mean, Spain and France are pretty awesome, but you're just ... How can I put this into words? You're bright. You shine. You make me feel okay. Verdammt, Birdie I-"

That couldn't be it. No…there…there had to be the next part. Matthew frantically searched through his phone but couldn't find the next part of the voice mail. There were tears in his eyes. Those were some of the nicest things he had ever been told.

Canada wasn't sure what possessed him in that moment but he punched in Prussia's phone number. When he reached the voice mail he didn't know what to expect; certainly not this.

"Hey! Birdie! You're listening to my voice mail greeting right now! It's…uh…really long. I've been messing with some tech stuff and it let me do this. You are probably the only person who actually calls me so that's why I made this just for you! I dropped by your place the other day and I gotta tell you, it's a mess. I saw you driving yourself home and I was a little surprised…Have you looked at yourself? You're still kind of a mess too. You should have let me drive you but you took off before I could go to your car! Anyways…Get better soon Birdie!"

That was strange.

A little too strange.

Canada hadn't driven himself home. America had. His own brother was there the entire time…Wasn't he?

It would have been impossible to miss Al…

Those doubts were back now. They were ravaging his mind. Hadn't he thought that something was off? He had, hadn't he? He just kept blaming it on other things. Where was Kumajirou? He usually slept until noon. Had his friend even been in the flat at all?

"Have you looked at yourself?"

The words echoed through his mind. They haunted him because he hadn't looked at himself. Mirrors showed reflections and seeing the possibility of him being back made his stomach churn. Al had cleaned up the place though, right? But now that Canada thought about it… he didn't remember Alfred ever leaving his side. Also Kuma wouldn't have reacted the way he had if Al explained the situation to him.

The phone fell from Matthew's grasp onto the floor. His hands were shaking too hard to hold onto anything. He attempted to stand up and eventually managed to pull himself though the darkness to the washroom. His legs felt as though they would give out from underneath him at any given moment.

He needed a light.

He had to see.

He had to make sure it was him.

He had to make sure that he was himself.

Canada's trembling hands found the switch and the lights flickered on. The walls were stained with reddish brown streaks. There was a strange rotting smell that filled his nose.

The mirror was smashed and barely there.

Matthew pretty much fell out of the washroom and slammed the door behind him.

His bedroom was still drenched in darkness that bled into everything, maybe it was a certain dark madness that accidentally bled into his mind.  
This couldn't be happening.  
He was better. He was okay. He just needed time.

Turning around, Canada slowly re-opened the door. He breathed laboured breaths.  
It was fine. The room was clean.  
He would be okay.

Canada didn't remember falling asleep but evidently he had.

On the floor.

He felt like something had happened last night. It was like a dream and its details were being dangled just out of his consciousness's grasp. With a groan he pushed himself up off of the ground and walked into the hall and stared at the mirror.

His reflection was smiling.

Matthew didn't feel as though he were smiling.

He felt sad.

Canada blinked, his reflection looked mad now. He gasped in surprise. He took a step back but slipped on the wet floor. As he fell he asked himself why the floor was wet. When he landed in the pool of sticky red liquid he had his answer. There was blood everywhere. Its strong metallic stench filled his nostrils making Canada gag. When his head hit the floor it was like a dam broke.

He remembered last night; in the bathroom. The darkness. The everything. He noticed the feeling of something being off vanish.

The colours that hadn't seemed vibrant at all became dull and dark. He could see the grime on the walls. The reddish hand prints. That strange rotting smell returned and his entire being shook. He didn't have his glasses on so when he tried to move his hand was pierced by what felt like broken glass. With a trembling hand Matthew managed to pick up the large shard of whatever he had cut himself on. Blood poured freely from the wound and Canada's eyes widened when he saw what it really was. The mirror he had looked into moments before was now in pieces.

This was too much.

It was all fake.

Had he driven himself home?

Was Al and everyone else worried?

'Probably not, I bet they already forgot about me.' He thought.

Then it was over. He was standing in front of the mirror again. Canada turned in frantic circles to look around. The flat was spotless.

Too spotless.

Unconscious, Matthew balled his right hand into a fist. There was only a ghost of a feeling where he hadn't really cut it on that mirror that hadn't really broken.  
He slammed his fist into the mirror. Now there was a cut. Now there were many cuts.  
The broken shards fell to the ground along with Canada's body.

He was scared.

He didn't know what to do.

It didn't really matter anymore what was real or not. According to his mind it didn't matter if the other him was gone. He would always be there in every photo, in every reflection. In his very own home.

Canada knew that he wasn't there but he could hear the taunting melody of his voice. His entire life lay in pieces like a broken mirror.

He mumbled quietly to himself amidst the horrifying realization, "Al was right. I need to get my own place..."


End file.
